“You don’t get it. Bad things happen wherever I go. People get hurt; things get wrecked. Everywhere I go, Cherry. Everywhere. Those aren’t just thoughts. They happened.”
He took a deep breath, imagined exhaling all the bad feelings he couldn’t shed, but the crumminess was still there. He wanted the bad feelings to go away. That’s not the point of meditation, Cherry once told him. Not to feel good or bad, but to be open to your experience no matter what it contains.
He still wanted it to go away.
“I wish I could talk to you.” He glanced at Bradley Cooper circling the top bunk.
“Don’t.”
Yeah, don’t give them what they want. Not BG or the millions of people watching. Just stuff it all down. What choice did he have?
“Get out of bed,” she said. “You’ll feel better.”
“I’m not going to the game room.”
“Yeah, no one is.” She pushed the chair back under the desk and nodded. “Where, by the way?”
She was asking where the phone was. It was a sort of shorthand language everyone at Kringletown spoke. He was going to bring it to her at the next early morning meetup. But just in case that didn’t happen, he fluffed the pillow.
The phone’s under here.
She got up and closed the door behind her. He got dressed to find out what was happening in the hall. The entire naughty wing was arguing, more than usual. Cherry was outside his room. She’d have to part the crowd to reach her room.
“There he is!” Evan shouted.
They all turned toward Ryder.
“The big hero,” Evan continued. “Afraid of the snowman.”
“Shut up.” Soup was somewhere in the crowd.
There was a scramble near Cherry’s door. Arf parted the crowd and separated Evan and Soup, but the insults kept coming. At least it pulled their attention away from Ryder. He got a glimpse of the board.
Game room closed.
It didn’t say broke or until further notice. It was closed. Worse, there was a list of names on the board. Introspections.
Everybody’s name was on it.
“This is his fault!” Evan shouted.
Hands began to fly. A chant started. “Fight! Fight!”
“You’re making friends.” Cherry laughed.
“Still have more than you,” Ryder said.
“You sure?”
Arf pushed back the crowd and threw Soup over his shoulder like a sack of road salt. Soup kicked and punched, but no one got hurt or stopped laughing, and Arf didn’t put him down.
“Any time,” Evan taunted.
“You suuuuuuuck!” Soup screamed.
Balled-up socks rifled out of rooms as they passed, bouncing harmlessly off his red face and spastic legs. Arf lugged him into the bedroom, kicking and screaming.
“I’ll be hiding in the bathroom.” Cherry started in the other direction but stopped outside Ryder’s bedroom. His roommates were strangely quiet. They were next to their bunks. John was in the middle of the room and Jane was on his bed. They’d slipped inside during the distraction.
There was a backpack at John’s feet.
“What’s going on?” Ryder said.
“We’re here to invite you on a hike,” Jane said. “We’re climbing up the hill for a couple of nights in preparation for the Arctic expedition. I thought you’d like to join us.”
She leaned back on his bed. Her hand slid near the pillow, her fingertips just under the pillowcase. She smiled and winked. A cold sliver of panic impaled his stomach.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“It’s not an invitation, bo.”
“Don’t be a crabby, Soup,” Jane said. “Of course it’s an invitation.”
“A crabby? Take my name off introspection and I’ll be a happy and a...” He stopped before he said the word. Calling yourself a nicy was not a joke.
“You’d rather go hiking with us?” John asked.
“Billy gives us this awesome game room and now he just shuts it down like that,” Soup said. “I mean, what kind of sicko does that?”
“The man who feeds you and clothes you and houses you and educates—”
“Okay, all right. I get it, Dad.”
“Listen, the game room was there to condition you for the expedition,” John said. “That’s all it was. I think you’re ready.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to the Pole. Neither is Arf.”
Jane laughed. “We’re done with games. This is real life. The trip is in one week. You’ll spend the rest of your time learning about the Arctic and getting mentally prepared. That’s what the introspections are for.”
“Let me practice spelling. N-O.”
Jane smiled sweetly. It looked like a smile, but it wasn’t. Ryder began breathing when she stood up without the phone.
“Your bag’s packed, Ryder.” John held up the pack. “There’s winter gear for you on our wing. You can pack some personal items if you wish, but keep it light. We’ll be out there for a few days to get accustomed to our gear. The naughties will go when we’re back.”
“Why’s he going with you?” Soup asked.
“Simple,” Jane said. “We like him.”
Ryder took the pack from John. It was heavy and tight, not much room for anything else. He dropped it on the floor and leaned against the desk.
A corner of wrapping paper was beneath the laptop.
“Give me a few minutes?” he said. “I’ll meet you in the horseshoe.”
Jane and John traded a glance. They had come to escort him off the naughty wing. Was he coming back?
“He’s not going anywhere,” Soup said. “Let him scratch his butt before you brainwash him.”
Jane and John left him in the room. If he wasn’t in the horseshoe in thirty minutes, they’d come back. Cherry was still in the hall. Ryder looked at the bed as innocently as possible. When he looked back, she was gone.
Soup slammed the door. “God, this room smells nice.”
Ryder knew what he meant. No matter how much perfume or fragrance they wore, the nicy smell always hung around. Ryder made his bed. He didn’t want anyone messing with it while he was gone. The phone was still there.
“Bo,” Soup said, “you’ve only been here like a month. Maybe you should start eating boogers or something, give them a reason to leave you alone.”
Ryder looked at the drones. He couldn’t tell them anything, even if they stripped down to their underwear. And it was too much to write down beneath a blanket.
He grabbed the note beneath his laptop.
It had been ripped from the same roll of wrapping paper. The note was written in big black letters.
“Know your fear,” Soup read. “What’s that mean?”
Ryder shrugged. It wasn’t Don’t be afraid or Know no fear or Be brave. It was Know your fear. That was something Cherry would say.
“I don’t know anything,” Ryder muttered.
***
“You sure this is it?” Ryder looked at Bradley Cooper.
There was no response. This was where the drone had brought him to meet the group. He was ten minutes early, but the room was empty. Bradley Cooper hovered over to the window, the green eye never leaving him.
There were voices outside.
They were in the horseshoe. The snow wasn’t deep, but they were huddled like penguins in the cold, their body heat protecting each other.
They weren’t wearing coats.
Ryder had been told to bring his pack to this room, where they would gear up and go over instructions before scaling the mountain. The gear was outside, but no one was wearing it.
He opened the door.
“There he is!” BG shouted.
Figgy sat next to BG. The group glared as Ryder approached. Their teeth were clattering; their stares were piercing. Backpacks were lined up behind BG, each piled beneath their coats and gloves.
“Better late than never, my boy,” BG said. “Gather up.”
Ryder wanted
to clarify he wasn’t late. He was early. But the nicies wouldn’t see it that way. He stopped short of the huddle, choosing a sunny spot closer to a small group of producers who were dressed properly. The nicies weren’t going to let him in.
Why aren’t they wearing coats?
“Do you think you’re cold?” BG paused until he had their attention. It was a long time before they tore their hate-stares away from Ryder. “This is nothing compared to where we’re going, children. Today your skin will burn and your speech will slur, but this is just uncomfortable. This is chilly. And yes, this is dangerous, but out here your snot won’t freeze. Ice will not coat your eyebrows.”
He kicked the pack at his feet.
“This will not be fun. But history will remember you. Today we hike to the top of the mountain, where we will camp for the night and return tomorrow. Use this opportunity to harden your will. There is only one rule. Do not quit.”
He took the time to look each of them in the eye.
“Gear up.”
The clan broke like wild animals, racing for their packs. A few of them went out of their way to bump Ryder. BG watched them dress. When all the scarves and caps and coats and gloves were on, Ryder looked around. There was nothing left. He wasn’t given winter gear, only a pack.
“Are you ready?” BG asked.
The nicies responded like marines. BG smiled back but didn’t lead the way. He pointed to Ryder, who was beginning to shiver.
“A brother is lacking,” he said.
“Let him freeze,” someone muttered.
BG took his time finding the one who said it. It was Kraig. BG towered over the boy and dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“You should never go outside without a coat. You won’t last two minutes. We’re a family, son. Our brothers and sisters’ keeper. We work together or fail trying. We’re short a coat.”
BG stared with intent. The drones captured the moment. The tension and drama ensured a place in the morning’s stream. Kraig knew what he was asking. They weren’t leaving until he answered correctly.
Without breaking eye contact, he stripped off the coat and threw it at Ryder. Lip twitching, he nodded back at their fearless leader.
“That’s the spirit,” BG said.
With that, he turned to the mountain. The nicies fell in line, jabbing the snow with long trekking poles. Ryder put on the coat with a secret joy concealed beneath his stiff cheeks. The next two days were bound to be joyless and merciless.
At least Kraig was the one who gave it up.
Faces watched from the naughty wing, hands cupped against the windows, breath fogging the glass. They were warm and bored. The prospect of watching Ryder bring up the rear made their plight a little less boring. They would do introspections, give up a few memories.
At least they were warm.
***
The coat rotation continued at five-minute intervals, everyone volunteering to be the next. When Ryder’s turn came back around, fifteen minutes had passed before someone volunteered.
The trees blocked the wind, and the snow was easier to navigate. Even with the coat, Ryder shivered uncontrollably. He’d lost feeling in his face. His teeth rattled like pearls on a freight train. He lagged far behind, out of earshot from the conversations. Occasionally, they looked back.
Just get this over with.
He considered turning around. The thought of a warm bed was crushing his resolve. The trip, though, required one step at a time. The others complained when they stopped. Ryder kept to himself.
He began counting his steps like meditation and eventually fell into a rhythm. Thoughts would bubble up and he would take notice, labelling them like Cherry had taught him, then let them drift away like colorful balloons.
He couldn’t feel his feet.
Up ahead, the group had gathered. The trees were beginning to thin. Soon they would be exposed as the terrain grew steeper and the temperature dropped. It was getting harder to catch his breath.
“Set up!” BG announced. “We’ll camp in the trees tonight; take advantage of the cover. There will be no such luxury on the ice, keep in mind. This is my gift to you.”
Maybe the medical staff had advised him to do so, but they were already preparing to crawl in sleeping bags. The tents would be enough to protect them. Someone began breaking sticks for kindling.
“Will there be fire on the ice?” BG called.
There was a groan. They’d be eating dinner cold. Ryder journeyed away from the pack and found a heavy spruce. Away from the woods, its branches touched the ground. Beneath it lay a bed of needles with just enough room for a tent.
He hoped no one saw him.
They hadn’t paid attention to him so far. But he had the coat. That meant someone was lacking. He thought about returning it, but no one had complained. They were all thinking the same thing anyway.
Let’s get this over with.
He found a small butane canister. He stepped out to gather some snow to melt. The spruce was next to an outcropping of stone. There were tracks in the snow. He’d seen this place before.
Impossible, he thought.
He’d never hiked this mountain in his life. The sense of déjà vu was dizzying. It must be dehydration. He followed the outcropping. Each step was more familiar than the one before it. He had walked this way before, climbed this terrain.
How?
Warmth had begun to glow inside him, like he was built for this kind of weather. He felt stronger, too. His nose grew hot, blood vessels warming the air as he inhaled.
Twigs snapped in the trees. Daylight was quickly waning, and the woods had grown dense and dark. A log lay across an opening, the rotting branches pointing up like weapons. Something was in the shadows.
Or someone.
“Where you running?” Kraig said.
Ryder had lost track of how far he’d gone or how long he’d been walking. It was darker than he thought. He was lucky Kraig interrupted him before it was too late.
“Give me the coat.” Kraig was already wearing one.
How far was the camp? He looked around. And where’s Bradley Cooper?
“You want to pick up where we finished?” Kraig said. “Or do you want to run away? You’re good at that.”
He crept toward him.
“I don’t like you,” he said. “I hate you, everything about you. You have no self-respect, no discipline or manners. You’re broken, all of you.”
“You were one of us.”
“Not like that. You’re all hopeless.”
“Then why am I here?” Ryder spit the words, but he really wanted to know. Why am I here?
“The other losers are digging a hole. That’s right, a giant hole in the horseshoe. When we get back, we’re throwing them in it. You too.”
Ryder stopped backpedaling. If he ran, he’d get lost. That was worse than what Kraig had in mind. His legs were already numb, so he couldn’t feel the fear course through his thighs, but it was twisting his stomach.
Know your fear.
Ryder had been shoved around all of his life. He could take licks. Kraig wasn’t anything new. It was just skin and bone. So why the fear? It wicked into his chest like poison, swelling in his throat and raising the hairs on his neck. He let those sensations spread and watched where they went, paid attention to the thoughts they bred.
I’m alone.
That was the poison, the thoughts that crippled his will. He’d always been alone. No one wanted him. And people like Kraig reminded him. You don’t belong.
Kraig pulled his gloves off. “Try not to cry.”
“You’re too stupid to do anything else.”
“I’m good at this. You’re good at running.”
Ryder could smell that weird nicy smell on him.
“I won’t leave a mark.” Kraig rubbed his hands. “But I can’t promise—”
Ryder took a swing.
Kraig blocked it with his forearm and shoved him. Ryder went tumbling backwards. The back of his
head struck gravel. He rolled onto his feet and held up his hands. The world was spinning.
Kraig laughed. “This is going to be fun.”
Ryder bent his knees and got low. He was going to shoot for Kraig’s legs, tie him up and hang on and hope he would tire out or someone would come looking.
No one is coming.
Gravel cascaded off the outcropping. Kraig stopped approaching. His smile faded. His gaze moved over Ryder’s head. It looked like he’d been shot with a tranquilizer. His arms hung at his sides.
The smell of damp hide filled the air. In the dying light, a shadow moved over Ryder. It crept across the snow. An enormous tangle of horns splayed in the shadows.
Hot breath was on his neck.
The cold and rancid fear that had gripped Ryder was replaced by immovable strength and righteous anger. Suddenly he wasn’t standing beneath the thing above him.
He looked down on Kraig with vengeance.
The world opened to newfound senses—the smell of perspiration, the tang of fear, the sharpness of perfect sight. He pulled air through warm nostrils that heated the furnace in his belly. Kraig couldn’t hurt him anymore.
No one can.
Drones zipped out of the trees. Twigs snapped and Ryder was suddenly thrown back into his small body. He stumbled away, staring up at an enormous beast, an animal he saw in his dreams and hid in his memories. In a flash, he remembered everything.
Ronin.
The reindeer stood over him. Slowly, he turned his head. Ryder saw it, too. Something in the shadows raised a weapon.
“Go,” Ryder said. “Go!”
It was too late. There was a dull thud. A web of metallic netting tangled in the antlers and slung over his back. Ronin threw his nose into Ryder and sent him tumbling from the fray.
His roar rattled his bones.
The drones swept in to capture the struggle. Ryder felt his belly swell as Ronin began to inflate. Even with the weight of the metallic net, he could leap farther up the mountain and work out of the trap—
Whump.
This time a stake fired into the stone outcropping. Silver lines fired out like gossamer threads and wrapped around the net and antlers. Another one sank into the rock wall and snagged his back legs.
Ronin Page 13
